notions of chance and fate are the preoccupations of men engaged in rash undertakings

Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story
of that man skilled in all ways of contending,
the wanderer, harried for years on end,
after he plundered the stronghold
on the proud height of Troy.
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A blog about RPGs and settings.

the river

Setting: The riparian corridor. Dim lazy rivers and brackish water and boughs bowing down in the mist. Roll d10.

1: A dhow of ancient design slowly drifts upriver. From a distance, there’s something noticeably off about it, apart from its antiquity; the closer a living being approaches, the more insubstantial it becomes.

2: Tiny fey creatures swarm upon your boat, blanketing the weakest among you. Their voices speak as one, a warbling susurration impleading you to release the weakest down into the water with them, where he or she can find rest.

3: A draugr of a man stands hip-deep in the watercourse, ritually washing another squirming corpse.

4: The glowering clouds part for a moment, over only the river. Sunlight falls, shining the river into a golden road, suitable for walking upon.

5: An assembly of penitents has tied themselves to posts, shoulder-deep in the water, in a line following the shore. The water runs with ribbons of their blood as they stand stonefaced and fishbit.

6: A procession of tiny paper lanterns floats downstream.

7: A shoal of fishmen have beached themselves upon the muck of the shore, pallid chests heaving for breath.

8: A geyser of steam erupts from the brackish river, followed by a sinuous drake breaching the surface and taking flight.

9: An old man rows by in a boat, towing three large baskets on tethers. Two baskets carry butchered hogs; the third, a wide-eyed little boy.

10: Several baskets of fish have been left on the shore. They are talking to each other. If you listen closely, they will tell you a story.